Chapter 28 Rhythm Brooks
RHYTHM brOOKS
Istood in the middle of my studio grinning so hard my face hurt.
It was my first day not clocking in at a nine-to-five, and I still couldn’t believe it.
I was officially an entrepreneur. Nobody was waiting for me to answer emails that had nothing to do with my purpose.
Nobody was calling me into meetings that drained me. Nobody had control over my time but me.
But I had still gotten to the studio bright and early. I had come immediately after dropping my kids off at school.
I looked around the space Sincere had gifted me and smiled all over again. My easel was set up. My supplies were lined up the way I liked them. The big sign on the wall still made me pause every time I saw “Rhythm Brooks Studio”.
I had on black leggings, one of my old, oversized T-shirts, and my locs pulled up because I planned to paint all day. I was standing at my table sorting brushes when I heard the door open behind me.
I turned fast, and my whole face lit up. “Baby? What are you doing here?”
He came in carrying a drink tray in one hand, a bakery bag in the other, and an obnoxiously big bouquet of sunflowers tucked under his arm.
He looked too good for it to not even be ten in the morning yet.
He was dressed casual and expensive in a creme two-piece pant set.
Looking at this man was like sex. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Sincere, looking like pure temptation in that open jacket draped over his frame.
The jacket was open and showed the undershirt clinging to his athletic build.
His broad shoulders filled out the fitted sleeves of the jacket perfectly, and those slim-fit pants wrapped around his long, thick legs, hugging the muscles in his thighs with every subtle shift of his weight.
His warm, brown skin looked kissable, and that short, neatly groomed beard framed his strong jawline, drawing my gaze to his full lips curved into a subtle, knowing smirk that made my clit pulsate like a heart beat.
His dark, intense eyes locked onto mine with a direct stare, partially shadowed by his glasses, but piercing enough to make my breath hitch.
His head tilted just a bit as if he knew exactly what he did to me.
He exuded effortless masculinity. Those layers of expensive jewelry, three gold chains layered around his neck, added to his sex appeal. Every inch of him screamed humble confidence, and my pussy got wet just from drinking him in.
I pressed my thighs together, feeling the ache intensify as I pictured those chains swaying over me while he pinned me down and thrust deep inside me. That smirk on his lips had my pussy clenching around nothing. Suddenly, I was desperate for him to close the distance and take what he wanted.
He held the flowers out first, wearing that big, corny grin. “Good morning, entrepreneur.”
I took the sunflowers from him, blushing. “Thank you. These are beautiful.” Smelling them, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“When we were on the phone, you said you were mad because you didn’t stop for breakfast and coffee before you got here.”
His consideration made me swoon. “I was just going to order Uber Eats. You didn’t have to come by.”
He set everything down on the table and started unpacking it. “And miss my chance to be your personal delivery driver?”
I walked over to him and kissed him quickly. “Thank you.”
He had brought fresh pastries, fruit, juice, and coffee exactly how I liked it. He even remembered the little things, down to the extra cream and the type of Danish I always picked at Starbucks.
I shook my head, still blushing. “You pay too much attention.”
“I’m supposed to.”
That hit me right in the middle of my feelings, and he knew it from the way I looked at him.
He handed me my coffee, lifted his mug, and said, “To the last day you ever gave to a job that didn’t deserve you.”
I tapped my mug against his. “I’ll drink to that.”
We ate in my studio, talking in between bites, and for a second I just watched him while he talked. This man had really walked into my life and started making space for my future without even taking credit for it.
After we finished eating, I got to work.
I put music on and started painting, and he opened his laptop in the corner near the window and handled his own business while I handled mine. Every now and then I looked over, and he’d already be looking at me.
I pointed my brush at him after the third time. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
He didn’t even look ashamed. “Because I can.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to my canvas, smiling so hard I had to bite my lip.
Hours passed with me painting, him working, and us talking in between.
He’d ask me what I was thinking about, and I’d ask him what he was typing so fast over there.
He took a call at one point and stepped outside so he wouldn’t interrupt me, and even that did something to me.
It was little things, but little things added up.
At one point he came over behind me while I was mixing color and kissed my neck. I turned too fast with a brush in my hand and got paint on his shirt.
I froze. “Damn. I’m so sorry.”
He looked down at the smear, then back at me. “So, this how artists treat their guests?”
I giggled as I put the brush down. “I said I was sorry.”
He stepped closer. “How you plan to pay me back?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. “In kisses.”
He grabbed my chin, tongue kissed me, then pulled back just enough to say, “That’s the only currency I care about from you anyway.”
I stared at him for a second after that and shook my head. “You expect me to get work done with you flirting with me all day?”
He laughed and kissed my forehead before going back to his laptop.
By the time the sun started setting, I had paint on my hands, on my shirt, and somehow on my cheek.
I set my brush down and stepped back from the canvas. My newest piece wasn’t finished yet, but it was close. I turned and saw Sincere watching me again, laptop closed this time, eyes on me in that way that always made everything else fade.
“What?” I asked, smiling.
He stood and came over to me. “I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed and looked around my studio, then back at him. “I’m proud of me too.”
He grinned. “As you should be.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my face against him for a second.
I thought about all the years I spent trying to make something out of scraps, arguing with Kodi over bills, praying over my kids after they went to sleep, that car accident, the explosion, and how close I came to losing everything.
I thought about how scared I used to be to want more.
Then I thought about where I was standing now.
My own studio. My own money. A man who loved me out loud.
I leaned back and looked up at him. “Thank you for seeing my potential before I saw it myself.”
He touched my face and shook his head. “You always saw yourself, baby. I just met you at the right time.”
I smiled, and my eyes got wet anyway. “I love you.”
His expression grew softer as he replied, “I love you too. And this is just the beginning.”
I believed him, wholeheartedly. Without a doubt, I knew this man loved and adored me.
I felt it in everything he did, from the big gestures to the smallest ones.
He made me feel seen, protected, and wanted in a way I had never known before.
With him, I didn’t have to question where I stood.
I was his, and he made sure I felt that every time he looked at me.
I was finally standing in the life I asked God for, and I wasn’t simply trying to survive anymore.
I was finally living.